


John Watson's Guide to Suicide Prevention

by effystonem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Teen Angst, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effystonem/pseuds/effystonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock does his worst. John discovers that the whole situation was preventable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [John Watson的防作死手册/John Watson's Guide to Suicide Prevention](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681079) by [SHIOU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHIOU/pseuds/SHIOU)



"Sherlock?" John Watson murmured, carefully approaching his best friend as Sherlock Holmes lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. John felt like it was an invasion of privacy to just walk into Sherlock's bedroom like this (even if Mrs. Holmes  _had_ said it was okay).

"John," Sherlock answered quietly, not looking at him, whole body still buried under the covers.

Sherlock looked absolutely ghastly. His hair was sweat-covered and plastered to his forehead. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his eyes looked dark and bruised they were so tired. He was even thinner and more bonier  than he had been the last time John had seen him.

John sat down on the side of Sherlock's bed, gently, and put a hand on top of Sherlock's where it lay under the covers. "How are you feeling?" 

Sherlock snorted in spite of himself. "Terrible. Really, terrible. Just awful. Remind me not to do that again."

John stiffened. "I'm sorry I couldn't visit before now," John replied. "They wouldn't let me in to see you at the hospital."

"You should have said you were my brother," Sherlock said. "They would've let you in then."

John rolled his eyes. That's probably what Sherlock would have done, had their situations been reversed. John couldn't bear to think about it. 

"You've missed a lot of homework," John said lightly, trying to smile even though his chest ached.

Sherlock rolled his eyes in turn. "I don't care."

"You don't care about anything," John snapped back automatically, "or anyone, apparently."

Sherlock recoiled, his tired eyes visibly shocked at John's outburst. He stared at John reproachfully, waiting for the blond boy to say more. 

"I hate you," John said, as though he had just realised it himself. As though it had just dawned on him that yes, he really and truly did hate Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock didn't say anything. He knew John needed to say more, so he watched, and he waited. 

"I fucking hate you," John repeated, with more venom, visibly upset. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you even fucking think about me, for even one second? Did I even cross your mind?"

"Of c-"

"Shut up," John cut him off angrily. "Shut up. How could you do this, Sherlock? If you had died... fuck! How would  _I_ have lived? In your little plan, what was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to live without you?" John was crying now, against his will, and his eyes were turning red. Sherlock stared at him, eyes wide, and wordlessly reached around John and put a hand on his back. Sherlock guided John down, until John's head rested on Sherlock's chest and he was practically lying on the bed beside Sherlock. John collapsed into crying on Sherlock's chest, grasping Sherlock's shirt and shaking. 

"In the hospital," Sherlock started carefully, "they asked me why I did it. I told them I was in pain. Of course I was." Sherlock paused. "And I am, still, John. You have to understand that I am not happy. It may surprise you, but I put most of my energy into hating myself every day when I'm bored, which is most of the time, and it's reached a point where I can't take it anymore, and I know you can't really understand but-"

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" John asked, voice still shaking, muffled by Sherlock's shirt. "I don't want to live in a world without Sherlock Holmes, as much as you might think we'd all be better off without you or whatever bullshit... look. Why didn't you just come to me?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I can't talk to you, John, for fear of telling you the truth about my pain. That you've caused it. Somehow, you're the reason for it and at the same time the one reason I kept living every day."

John stopped and took a deep breath. "Please tell me what's wrong, Sherlock. What have I done? Tell me what I can do for you, and I'll do it."

"You haven't done anything, John," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's me. It's hardly your fault that I'm in love with you and that  _I'm_ unable to cope with my feelings, simply because I'm not used to them, but John, I don't want you to blame-" Sherlock stopped, noticing that John had gone still. "John?"

"You're in love with me?" John asked in a small voice.

Sherlock couldn't be surprised that John was fixating on  _that._ "I thought you knew..." Sherlock replied uncertainly. "I thought it was, well, obvious."

John paused. "We don't all have your powers of deduction, Sherlock."

They fell silent. It was a thick silence, and within it Sherlock noticed that John hadn't moved from his spot on Sherlock's chest. 

Then, all of the sudden, John laughed. "We're a hot mess, aren't we?"

"Are we?" Sherlock was confused.

"We could have prevented this, together, if you'd told me  _before!_ All of your powers of fucking deduction, Sherlock Holmes, and it wasn't apparent to you? Obviously I love you, genius!" John laughed, for some reason finding this all hysterical. 

John turned his head upwards and kissed Sherlock firmly on the lips. Sherlock recoiled, at first, and then sunk into the kiss, that quickly got more heated. John sat up and swung a leg over Sherlock's burning body, straddling him and kissing him passionately, grabbing Sherlock's thin face and moving as close to him as possible.

"I'm glad I didn't die," Sherlock murmured into John's lips. "Was a bloody waste of drugs, though."

"I'm glad you didn't die, too," John chuckled, hands sliding beneath Sherlock's duvet. 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock goes out and about. They run into some schoolmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist adding in some Jarene interaction. Sorry.... ;)

Four days later, Sherlock feels up to going outside, and so John takes him for a walk. They walk side by side down the sidewalk, hands brushing but not touching, smiling shyly at the ground. Sherlock still looks sickly, and John worries about him. An overdose isn't easy to bounce back from.

"When do you think you'll be able to come back to school?" John asked carefully, trying not to seem too hopeful.

"No idea," Sherlock shrugged, kicking at a stray pinecone with his hands deep in his trouser pockets. John hid his disappointment, but he wasn't surprised. Sherlock would likely put off going back to school as long as possible. "Let's sit down. I'm getting tired."

John followed Sherlock to a park bench, across from a little ice cream shop that was plenty busy. They sat across from each other, not touching. Their new relationship was still private, as far as John was concerned, and it would feel odd to kiss Sherlock in public. He couldn't imagine telling his friends that they were dating (not that John's mates would be all too surprised). In fact, John didn't even know if they  _were_ dating, or even together. They'd spent the past few days lying in Sherlock's bed together, laughing and talking and kissing and trying to prevent boredom from setting in on Sherlock's part. 

"How's school been?" Sherlock asked politely.

"Dreadful," John replied, shaking his head sadly. "Unbearable without you there to make snarky comments."

Sherlock smiled. John's hair was lit up in the sun like golden straw, and Sherlock was feeling a bit emotional about it. "I want to kiss you right now," Sherlock admitted.

John smiled charmingly through his blond eyelashes, making Sherlock feel dizzy. "Then kiss me."

Sherlock bit his lip, unsure if that was a challenge or not. If John was serious, he didn't mind being seen  _with_ Sherlock in public, Sherlock would have to reevaluate himself. He'd always thought John would be focused on maintaining his image, but Sherlock figured now that John wasn't like that. So Sherlock leaned across the picnic table and brushed their lips together, just lightly, teasingly, waiting for John to respond. John grinned in response and closed his eyes, letting the sunlight wash over them and taking in the wholesomeness of the moment. 

Sherlock, taking that as a positive sign, adjusted himself and moved further across the table, nudging into John with his lips, tentatively using a bit of tongue. It wasn't precise. It was clumsy, and their noses bumped against each other, but it was perfect because it was John. 

When John finally pulled himself back to breathe, Sherlock was positively beaming. "I love you," Sherlock said.

John laughed. "I know," and then, "I love you, too."

"John?" Sherlock asked uncertainly.

"Yes?" John laughed.

"What are we, exactly? I mean, it's only been four days, and I just wondered..." Sherlock cleared his throat nervously and looked down at the table.

"Does it matter?" John shrugged. "You're asking me as if I've done this before, mate. Do we have to label it?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "So we aren't going to tell anyone, then? About... whatever we are?"

John looked puzzled. "It's none of their business, anyway!"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I suppose not."

A shadow appeared over the picnic table, and the boys looked up to see the outline of a girl, dark against the beaming sunlight, silhoutted with her hands on her hips. She was slim and had long, thick dark hair. Sherlock recognized her instantly.

"What do _you_ want?" Sherlock snapped, pulling away from John. The girl smiled impishly and tilted her head, her cascade of dark waves falling over her shoulder.

"Don't be so rude, Mister Holmes. Introduce me to your date," she purred, staring at John intimidatingly.

"John, this is Irene Adler. She goes to our school, unfortunately." Sherlock muttered. John grinned up at Irene, feeling fairly sure that he recognized her from around school.

"Hello," John smiled charmingly. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes," She said kindly, nodding. "It's gorgeous out."

"A perfect day for you to be out here doing evil, obviously," Sherlock said under his breath.

John raised his eyebrows. Irene didn't look like she was 'doing evil'.

Irene pretended to be shocked. "I'm here on a date!"

"Don't patronize me," Sherlock said gloomily.

"If you'd looked around you'd see Janine is getting us ice lollies... I just happened to see you here, Holmes. I didn't come with the specific intent of ruining your day."

"Or his life, if he's to be believed," John pitched in unhelpfully, giggling. Irene laughed girlishly.

John looked over at the ice cream stand, where a short, dark-haired girl was paying for ice lollies. "Sorry, do you mean Janine _Hawkins_ you're here with?"

Irene nodded. "The very same."

John smiled. "I know Janine! Used to be friends with my sister, a few years back."

"Yes," Irene said nastily, "don't remind me."

John turned red and stammered out an apology. Janine walked up to their table and handed Irene her ice lolly.

"We'll be going, then," Irene said, and whisked Janine away. As soon as she was gone, John turned to Sherlock.

"Sorry, have I missed something? Why do you hate her so much?" John tilted his head.

"I don't," Sherlock stated firmly. "As you and I both know, Janine and I used to date."

John laughed. "And it's jealousy, is it? You dated Janine because she interns for one of your suspects."

Sherlock frowned. "I liked her. Not like I like you, obviously, but it upsets me that she's with Irene now."

"And what is it, then? You think Irene's a bad influence?" John laughed.

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"Well, get this," John grinned. "You're just as much of a bad influence as she is, Sherlock, so don't say that to  _me!"_

"But you like it," Sherlock goaded, smirking.

John smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I do. Git. Let's go home."

 John helped Sherlock get up from the picnic table and laced their arms together, walking arm-in-arm down the street.


End file.
